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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 12, 2014 18:43:38 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Dreamless sleeping wasn’t exactly uncommon. Those days where he wasn’t quite tired enough to just pass out, Oskenon:ton didn’t dream. Those deep, exhausted sleeps often gave rise to moving scenes in his head, though. Most of the time, he dreamt of home. Rolling seas, sand and dense woods usually filled those nights and sometimes, waking up was much less preferable.
When he passed out that time around, he did dream. Not exactly of home, per se, but something close. The woods seemed to stretch on and on in front of him, only it didn’t seem like him. It felt like his mind was separate from his body, and he followed along as he ran through the dense foliage. It felt so strange, watching himself as he was a child running along like that. An old memory, maybe? He wasn’t even sure. His younger self, maybe ten years old, seemed gleeful.
He just kept bounding through the woods for what felt like ages, and Oskenon:ton was helpless but to follow. Suddenly, his younger self stopped and gazed around him with the most curious expression, which was when he realized that he couldn’t hear anything. Not a leaf rustling, not a footstep and as his younger self’s mouth moved as if talking, not a noise came forward.
Oskenon:ton saw the parting of the branches as a large, hulking brown creature stepped forward. A rack of antlers seemed to almost blend in with the twigs above, but again, there was no noise. His younger self froze at the sight of the moose, easily ten times larger and heavier than himself. The moose didn’t like his presence, obviously, as it immediately charged at him. His younger self turned and bolted.
Everything faded then. It turned into a haze of dark as Oskenon:ton stirred in his sleep, pulled up from the dream in a strangely peaceful manner.
It was warm, wherever he was lying, though not exactly completely comfortable. He moved a little again, clawing his way up from the fog of sleep as he tried to get his bearings about him again.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jan 12, 2014 18:56:46 GMT -8
When Moose had fallen asleep, there had been a small figure pressed against his side. He had been wracked with anxiety, worried about what would happen. Would Oskenonton ever go back to normal? How was he supposed to explain it to Rhiannon? To Oskenonton's family? To the police for that matter? In their eyes, Oskeonton would be a missing person, and the boy would be... what? A random child found in the possession of a convicted felon, who was unable to identify themselves clearly. It was a mess on top of a mess.
So he had not slept well. He stayed where he was, not rolling or anything, but his sleep was filled with haunting dreams. They were similar to what he dreamed of any time he was stressed--that he woke up and was on his cot, in his cell, back in prison. In his dreams he went through his days as he always had, the same motions and people. It was as if he'd never left, as if nothing had changed. He had been so close to that life. So close to staying in there forever. If he ever went back, that would be his fate--to be there forever, until he died.
They both jerked upright at near the same time, Oskenonton's movement waking him from the dream with a snap. He was disoriented for a few moments, unable to place himself. The apartment was still strange to him--alien and bizarre compared to the rote similarities of the cells he'd lived in for his entire known life.
But it came back to him soon enough. He was back in the apartment, and he was there with--
His head snapped around, realizing that Oskenonton was not only there, but he was big. An adult. Not a kid. Moose lurched forward, wrapping his arms around Oskenonton and giving him a crushing hug. Thank god, he was back. He didn't want to think of what would happen if he wasn't.
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 12, 2014 19:20:05 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Oskenon:ton felt tired despite his sleep and a bit sore, though he had no clue why. His muscles were tense, especially in his shoulders and arms for some reason, and he was having a bit more trouble getting up than he would have usually. He just felt so heavy, and he would have been perfectly content to snuggling up to whatever that warm thing was and falling back asleep.
He would have done it, too, had it not been for a rib-crushing hug that came down on him not two seconds later.
Oskenon:ton coughed, wheezing as he tried to take a deep breath and finding himself unable to. It took a second to clear the fog in his head and another to figure out who the hell was hugging him. Moose was here? Why was Moose in his bedroom? And why was he in his bed? And hugging him?
So many questions, and not enough answered within the first five to ten seconds. ”M-Moose!?” He breathed around his sore ribs, though he didn’t move from his crushing grip. ”Moose, I can’t breathe.” And he was afraid that the threat of suffocating to death was very, very real.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jan 12, 2014 19:29:25 GMT -8
He was happy to see him. He was so happy to see him, happy to know that he was back and an adult and no one was going to get arrested. He was safe. They were both safe, for that matter, because the option had always existed that Oskenonton would never go back to normal--that he'd stay a child forever, slowly growing up and never going back to normal.
When Oskenonton wheezed though, Moose jumped, releasing the hug and pulling back. Moose tried his best to be delicate, to avoid crushing things, but sometimes he got carried away, and he certainly had just then. He looked vaguely embarrassed by his outburst, wringing his hands for a moment. "Sorry. Was just excited you're back."
OSKENÓN:TON | MAY 15, 8PM |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 12, 2014 19:50:20 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Needless to say, Oskenon:ton was still pretty exhausted and rather disoriented. He still didn’t know why Moose was in his bed and his brain wasn’t exactly working at its prime with the lack of oxygen. What had even happened last night? He barely remembered, but he supposed he could ask a question or two later.
Moose finally let go of him and Oskenon:ton drew a deep breath of relief. He just lay there for several long seconds, getting his bearings back together. ”What? Back? From where?” Had he gone somewhere? He certainly didn’t remember if he did, but he should have. He hadn’t had anything to drink the night before and he did distinctly remember going to bed.
Wait, didn’t Moose have a nightmare the night before? It was all slowly coming back. Yeah, he invited him in, didn’t he? Last he remembered, though, they were sleeping on opposite ends of the bed.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jan 12, 2014 19:58:43 GMT -8
He didn't - what? Why was Oskenonton playing dumb? He scowled slightly, seeming to think hard on the matter. Oskenonton's actions didn't make sense, and Moose settled back on his ass, legs folding under him. He tilted his head slightly, look of annoyance seeming more like confusion.
"You were... a kid. Like, ten or something?" He was just making a rough guess, a ballpark of the age that he thought Oskenonton had been at. He wasn't good at guessing ages for kids--or really much about kids at all. He could be nice to them, but he didn't know anything about them, simply because he'd never really been around them. "You didn't remember me, or this place, or anything else. I thought you were going to be stuck that way, and then I got you to fall asleep again." And it had worked, because there he was--an adult again. Not a kid, thank god.
"I mean, you were a cute kid. You talked about forests, and you said that green was your favorite color." And a whole bunch of little things. He felt like he only half-remembered stuff, but he was still sleepy, and he knew enough. He hadn't dreamed it--he was sure of that.
OSKENÓN:TON | MAY 15, 8PM |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 12, 2014 20:08:22 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. He was, to say the least, wholly perplexed by the whole ordeal. What did he mean by being back, anyways? Like… going for a drink of water and coming back to bed? Because that was the farthest he thought he would go in the middle of the night. Oskenon:ton wasn’t exactly a night owl, after all. He liked his sleep, especially since work tired him out so much.
”Yes, I was ten years old… about twenty two years ago, Moose.” He was thirty two at this point, and he didn’t at all remember the events of earlier that morning. In fact, glancing out the window, the sun was just barely dipping down over the horizon. It was then that he realized he’d slept straight through the day. He never did that. A glint of worry crossed his face for a second. Had he really slept through the night and right into the day?
”Moose, what are you talking about?” Sure, his mother had called him a cute kid and all, but he didn’t have any childhood photos lying around and he was fairly sure he just met Moose not too long ago. ”Did I sleep through the entire day?”
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jan 12, 2014 20:15:13 GMT -8
He didn't believe him. That much was obvious right away, even to someone as generally dense as Moose. He thought he was crazy--or probably he thought that he had dreamed the whole thing, or was making fun of him or who knew what. "I just said. We woke up, and you were ten and confused. I had to keep you in here so Rhiannon wouldn't see you, and then... fuck it, one second."
Moose shoved himself off the bed, shirtless but wearing long PJ pants as he trudged over to the door, pulling it open and squinting around into the living area. It wasn't more then a minute before there was a soft buzz, and Aura settled down on Moose's shoulder. He closed the door behind him, moving in and holding one hand up to Aura, letting her climb onto his hand before lowering her down to Oskenonton's shoulder, letting her hop on with a quick beat of her wings.
You're back.
"He thinks I'm crazy. Or imagining the whole thing. Tell him." Moose sat back down on the bed, crossing his legs once more and scowling.
He's not crazy. You were a larva. Much smaller. He had to explain that humans were supposed to grow up, not down, and that it was a weird thing. Aura confirmed, wings fluttering quickly as she spoke, eager to fly once again.
OSKENÓN:TON | MAY 15, 8PM |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 12, 2014 20:35:41 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. If there was one thing Oskenon:ton was sure about despite his grogginess and general confusion over how and why he’d slept through an entire day, it was that he couldn’t age backwards. Some legends spoke about it, of course, but those were through mystical forces and he was fairly sure he did nothing to invoke wrath or curses.
Oskenon:ton just sat there wordlessly, still horribly confused as Moose stormed off, probably to get some proof of his de-aging or whatever the hell that had been. All he could do in the meantime was sit there and wrack his brains on what had happened. He’d remembered going to check on Moose after he heard a noise, inviting him to sleep in his room, and then nothing. After falling asleep the night before, there had been absolutely nothing.
The idea of losing a huge chunk of his memory, supposedly while awake no less, scared him quite a bit. He didn’t have time to linger on the idea, though. Almost as soon as he’d completed the thought, Moose returned with Aura on his shoulder, then quickly transferred to his shoulder.
”I was a what?” A larva? Well, he had to assume it meant he was younger, since she was a bug and all, but that was one weird way to put it. ”I’m… I don’t know what happened. I can’t remember anything.”
Oskenon:ton looked rather upset. Just the mere notion that he couldn’t remember something so substantial was worrying him.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jan 13, 2014 7:38:06 GMT -8
Moose was significantly less certain of almost anything. Moose didn't deal in absolutes. While the vast majority of the population would say they were sure that you couldn't age in reverse, Moose had only been out of prison for about a month, and he'd already been attacked by giant talking bugs, a dog made out of fire, and spent a day with a griffin. He really didn't rule anything out. So even if someone came and told him that paintings could move, he wasn't going to rule it out--the possibility was there. In a way it was a boon for him. People from the outside had come to understand things about the world that Moose hadn't, and it left him a whole lot more open to possibilities that people would rule out as being 'impossible'. As far as Moose was concerned, nothing was impossible. If the gravity of the earth just suddenly decided to stop working one day, he wouldn't be terribly surprised. He certainly wouldn't freak the hell out like most people would. Really, once you watched someone get eaten by a bug taller then you were and then had it talk to you, your ability to be alarmed by things was drastically diminished.
As much as Moose felt better, Oskenonton looked worse. He looked distressed, and Moose went right back to his usual scowl. "It's fine now. I mean, you're back to normal." Just as long as it didn't happen again. And if it did... well, Moose would fall back on the old tried and true methods, by squeezing his eyes shut and really, really hoping that he went back to normal. "Aura didn't know what was doin' it." It went without saying he didn't either.
Aura wordlessly confirmed the sentiment before lifting off, fluttering over to the window and settling down, content to bathe in the sun while the two humans spoke.
OSKENÓN:TON | MAY 15, 8PM |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 13, 2014 7:58:37 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. The fact that he couldn’t remember anything was what bothered him the most. He usually did have a very good memory, but his dreams were hazy to him, as was the day before right after he went back to bed. He’d literally lost a whole day being a ten year old and he didn’t remember or know how that was even possible.
It wasn’t fine. Moose might have said so, but he wasn’t exactly keen on listening to Moose on this one. He may have been safe the whole time with him, but he wanted to know why and how so he’d never do it again. This was something horribly serious and quite a bit frightening, yet Moose didn’t seem fazed by it at all. After the whole mansion fiasco with snakes that were trying to kill them, Oskenon:ton supposed he should have had more tolerance to weird happenings.
They only really started once he got into LA, though.
”I know I’m back to normal, but I want to know why and what happened.” Of course, he wasn’t quite expecting Moose to explain that to him. ”All I remember is going to bed the night before. That’s all.”
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jan 13, 2014 8:46:19 GMT -8
Oskenonton was upset, and seeming to grow more so by the second. Moose wasn't very good at calming people down. Hell, the last time he'd had to do it, it had basically been him standing there while Emmie had calmed herself down by clinging to his shirt. Somehow he didn't think Oskenonton was going to calm down that way, and it wasn't like he was a little girl who needed coddling. Moose's scowled stayed where it was.
"Well, I don't know." It was hard not to feel like he was being blamed in some way. "And Aura doesn't either. Shit just happens. Why did a giant bug try and eat us? Why did I get jumped by a dog made out of fire? I dunno, you don't know. You just move on." He could only shrug in response, unable to sympathize properly. He'd long ago gotten over not remembering things. The idea of it no longer phased him, in the same way that adults got used to the idea that death could happen at any moment--you just tuned it out, and tried not to think about it. "I fuckin' know how frustrating it is to not remember, but you probably aren't going to get those memories back." Because it wasn't him who had been there--it had been his younger self, like they'd swapped places.
OSKENÓN:TON | MAY 15, 8PM |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 13, 2014 17:21:00 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. ‘Shit just happens’ was not an acceptable answer to him. If Moose couldn’t help him find out why, he’d likely go digging about on his own to figure it out. Oskenon:ton wasn’t at all a man who simply accepted things for the way they were. The things that the people here called paranormal could be explained through his teachings from when he was young; spirits and roots connected to the earth were just as good of explanations as science was to him. However, de-aging and being unable to remember a thing had no explanation in animism or science that he knew of, and that was what bothered him.
”I’m not the sort that just moves on, Moose.” There was that hint of irritation in his voice, though it hadn’t gone full-fledged yet. Oskenon:ton, despite not quite giving off that impression, was a man of action. He didn’t just let someone kick him in the knee and ‘deal with it’ because ‘shit happened’. Perhaps a donkey kick in retaliation wasn’t needed, but a stern word certainly would.
”I’m not going to take this lying down. I’ll find out what happened. I have to.” Because damn it, he wasn’t going to let twelve hours apparently spent as a ten year old go unexplained. He’d dig for it.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jan 13, 2014 19:59:22 GMT -8
Moose thought it was pointless. Why waste time and energy trying to find out why it happened? The universe didn't work on why's. The universe did what it wanted, and if you were lucky, those why's weren't particularly painful to you. Sometimes they were. Moose's life was full of painful whys, both from himself and the universe. Why couldn't he remember? Why did he have to lose his memory? Why didn't his family contact him?
The big why was a why for himself: Why did he kill that guy? That was the one that burned at him. The universe hadn't ruined his life, he had. He had chosen, for one reason or another, to kill someone. Was it for fun? For money? Had it been an accident? Had he just meant to scare him?
He supposed a connected why was 'why won't I ever know the answers'. The only other person who knew those answers was dead, and Moose had long ago given up hope that he'd ever remember anything. You couldn't recover what wasn't there.
He didn't think Oskenonton's memories were there either. He felt fairly confident that Oskenonton hadn't just de-aged--he'd swapped places with his younger self. "Don't think you ever will. It wasn't like you were small--it was like your ten year old self took your place. You didn't remember anything from being an adult. You acted like your kid self too. Probably you already remember what happened sorta, only you thought it was a dream so you didn't pay attention back then." OSKENÓN:TON | MAY 15, 8PM |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 13, 2014 20:13:50 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. He didn’t understand why Moose was so willing to take it lying down and give in like that. He sat there for a long moment, just trying to put everything back together and unable to. Something about the last part did stir something deep in his memory, though… something so vague that he didn’t think he’d drag it back up. He focused on it, dug around, trying to put it back together and any residual information that might have floated around so long ago.
A dream. Had it been a dream? Something that he’d thought about a couple of years ago, when his dad told him to go out there and find what made him happy.
Oskenon:ton blinked, holding on to that familiar but distant thought. He couldn’t figure it all out, not right now when he was so disoriented and confused. It certainly felt very real, at least. The dream didn’t come back, though; it was only the idea of the dream that came to the surface and made it all feel very, very déjà vu.
”There’s something familiar…” He murmured, though more to himself than anything. He took a second to rub his face, exhausted and trying to clear his head. ”Moose, can you just stop for five seconds? Please?” He didn’t need to be told that he couldn’t remember right now. Something was there, scratching at the very fringes of his mind.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jan 13, 2014 20:21:25 GMT -8
Moose went quiet as ordered. He was used to following instructions, and even if Oskenonton wasn't actually his superior, he still thought of him as being higher then him on the proverbial social ladder. Oskenonton had never been in jail, for one. For another, Moose owed him a lot--he only had a place to sleep because Oskenonton had taken pity on him, and let him 'pay rent' to sleep on his couch. Or mostly his couch--but occasionally his bed.
Moose shifted how he sat, drawing his legs up in front of him. He felt like he imagined a sulky child must feel--he hadn't done anything wrong, but Oskenonton was still upset and he had no way to solve it. All he could do was sit there and wait, letting Oskenonton work stuff out on his own.
Maybe he had been right though. Maybe he had thought it was a dream, and that was what had gotten Oskenonton remembering--or trying to remember.
Who knew, maybe he'd have better luck then Moose did.
OSKENÓN:TON | MAY 15, 8PM |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 13, 2014 21:08:21 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Oskenon:ton just sat there for a very long time. Usually, he needed to move around to remember things. He needed to handle wood, perhaps work, do some painting and weaving; those were the things that dragged up memories from the depths of his mind yet he felt so still for this one. When he shifted where he sat, it seemed that the thought loosened a bit and drifted away.
”What… what did I talk about?” Would that really help? He couldn’t recall a damn thing and obviously, attempting to multiple times wasn’t going to help. But that dream, that supposed dream at least that he had years ago. Maybe that would?
He quickly scrambled for the other side of the bed, picking up the phone. ”Hang on.” He needed to call someone, and he remembered the number by heart. He did call back every once in a while when he had the time to.
”Hello?” He heard the click of the phone being picked up, then a pause before a gravelly voice asked him if he was Oskenon:ton. ”Yeah, dad, it’s me…”
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jan 14, 2014 18:13:02 GMT -8
What did he talk about? Moose took a moment to pause and think back before giving a little shrug. "You talked about the woods. I asked your favorite color. You seemed upset, and said you wanted to go home, so I tried to explain that your home was here now, at least for now." Which little Oskenonton hadn't taken very well, but what could he do about that? It was impossible to explain to a kid that his parents were far away. Even Moose knew that, and he knew very little about children.
Moose held on when instructed, staring at him. He was calling someone? Who? Moose didn't have the faintest idea, even though most people could have guessed he'd be calling home. It wasn't until he said 'dad' that Moose went rigid, suddenly tense. His dad? He'd called his dad? Suddenly Moose was in foreign territory, just as surely as if he'd been dropped in the desert and left to die. Parents. He knew nothing about them, and he had no idea what to do. It would be obvious enough that he was uncomfortable, and he kept quiet as Oskenonton spoke.
OSKENÓN:TON | MAY 15, 8PM |
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Post by OSKENÓN:TON on Jan 15, 2014 19:43:57 GMT -8
tagged: Moose time: May 15, 8PM. speech: Oskenón:ton. notes: - - -. Oskenon:ton barely noticed Moose’s discomfort as his dad’s gravelly, chronic smoker voice came onto the phone asking if it was him. Yes, it was him, and he apologized briefly for not calling home in so long. He’d been busy and all that; work piled up and he found it odd that he became so popular in LA, of all places.
He did, at one point, glance over at Moose with a small but reassuring smile before he pressed a button on the phone. His dad’s voice came out, louder than before; speaker was useful, and he wanted Moose to hear anything, if anything was proven. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting.
”Dad… do you remember any dreams I told you about when I was ten?”
There was a pause before his dad seemed to laugh, coughing vaguely in between breaths. Of course, Oskenon:ton’s dad smoked a lot. Every photo of him, he had a cigarette between his lips, even when he was holding his son when he was a baby. ”Son, I’m old. I don’t remember things from so long ago.”
”Nothing at all?” He sounded a little downtrodden at that. ”Didn’t I ever mention, I don’t know, dreaming of being in a city when I was a kid?”
”You had a lot of dreams.” This was proving to be little help. Oskenon:ton was about to thank him and tell him to say hi to his mom for him when his dad spoke up again. ”Ah… there might have been something. I think it was something about a room far away. Don’t think you ever mentioned a city.”
”Okay?”
”You said… You said you fell through a hole and ended up in a weird room. Said there was someone else with you, I think. I don’t remember how you described the person.” There was a bit of a pause as he coughed again. ”You had a lot of other dreams, too. Can’t quite recall too many for you, though.”
”No, it’s okay. That’s all I needed. Thanks, dad.” There was a mumble on the other side, something about taking care of himself, then a click as his father hung up.
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Post by DARRIN "MOOSE" MOORE on Jan 16, 2014 7:45:41 GMT -8
Moose actually jumped as the voice suddenly got louder. Somehow, Oskenonton had made the phone sound as if the man was in the room with them, something Oskenonton hadn't encountered before. It was a bit like the intercom system used in prison, only coming out of a phone, and after a moment he let himself settle back down. It had just been alarming, and there was no danger. Mentally, he made a note that he was going to have to look at his phone a bit more thoroughly, because he had no idea what it could and couldn't do. Could his phone do the same thing, and make it so loud it sounded as if the person was there?
He listened to the conversation, struggling to understand what was being said. It wasn't that the man was using big words or anything--his accent (or was it simply the tone of his voice, one even moose recognized as coming from a chronic smoker) was what made it almost incomprehensible. He'd missed the majority of what was being said, but he'd gotten enough. Once upon a time when he was ten, Oskenonton had no doubt relayed part of his 'dream' to his father. The 'someone else' was obviously him, and the weird room... well, that was where they were right then, wasn't it? The fact that his father remembered it at all was a good indication it had left a strong impression on him.
Moose kept on waiting though, unaware that the click meant the call was over.
OSKENÓN:TON | MAY 15, 8PM |
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